


Up Down Turn Around (Please Don't Let Me Hit the Ground)

by mmaree



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hipster Harry, Light Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, Song Lyrics, english major zayn, zouis friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8008054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmaree/pseuds/mmaree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis enlists his best mate, Zayn, to help him find someone to pose as his boyfriend.  Liam’s annoying new roommate might fit the bill perfectly.  </p><p>Or the one where Harry wants it all and Zayn just wants some bloody peace and quiet.  (Oh and maybe he secretly wants Harry, too.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up Down Turn Around (Please Don't Let Me Hit the Ground)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saresa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saresa/gifts).



> Title taken from "Temptation" by New Order. Additional lyrics have been scattered throughout for effect. You can find all of their song titles listed in the end notes (in case you're a music junkie like me). Finally, massive thanks to Laura for the beta!

"Did I tell you me dad’s a prick?”  It’s not really a question, the way Louis states it.  It’s more of an observation really.  But then Zayn has known Louis’ dad for a good decade so this information isn’t exactly breaking news.

Zayn takes a long drag on his cigarette and exhales slowly, wishing the nicotine gave him a buzz as it did when he first picked up the habit.  He wishes anything would give him a buzz anymore.

He glances over at Louis who is looking at him expectantly.  Maybe it _was_ a question after all.  “Yeah, I think you’ve mentioned he was a prick once or twice.” 

“Good,” Louis grunts, stamping out his own cigarette in a way that tells Zayn he’s cheesed off about something.  Zayn’s not the best at picking up signals, but the way Louis is scraping the floor with the sole of his boot like a provoked bull is a dead giveaway. 

“Is it your dad?” Zayn prods, cutting to the chase.  It’s September, but the rooftop’s windy, and he’s regretting not bringing a jacket with him.  “He threaten to nix your allowance again or summat?”  Zayn tries to ask it in a way that doesn’t sound condescending or like he’s envious of the fact that Louis doesn’t have to spend the majority of his time in the university library picking up after rich assholes who think they own the place.  He almost succeeds.

“Listen, Malik.  My family’s not exactly rolling in the dosh here.  I’m not a walking advert for YSL’s new fall collection like Payno’s new roommate, the first year.  You know who I mean.”

“Styles, isn’t it?”  Zayn had met the kid a couple of times, but he hadn’t really paid attention to the way he was dressed.  Zayn _had_ noticed his eyes, however.  They were unsettling--a really piercing green.  He hadn’t really seen anyone with eyes that colour before which is probably the reason he couldn’t get them out of his head after he first met Harry Styles.

“Yeah, that’s right.  Styles.  Payno says he’s this massive over-achiever, and it’s driving him up the wall.”  Louis snickers.  “I think it’s just getting on his tits that he’s not the top ass-kisser around here anymore, d’you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, but what were you saying about your dad?”

“Oh right.”  Louis brushes away his long fringe and faces Zayn.  “He wants me to bring this bird to the Winter Ball, that knees-up at the end of the term.”

“So?  Tell him you don’t want to go.”

“My allowance is hanging by a thin thread, Malik.  I can’t afford to piss him off.”

Zayn attempts to think of a polite way to tell Louis he was making a mountain out of a molehill.  “Then go to the ball.  I mean, how bad could it be?”

Louis lowers his voice like what he’s about to say is a game-changer.  He leans in closer.  “The bird he wants me to take is Hilda Hughes.”

“The girl who used to bully you?” Zayn sputters, utterly gobsmacked.  “Key stage 2, wasn’t it?  Like, right before I met you.”

“She didn’t _bully_ me, Malik,” Louis corrects him, clearly covering old wounds.  “She was just a festering blight on my existence for those years, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m assuming you haven’t seen her since.  Maybe she’s not so bad now, you never know.”

“Nah, I just creeped on her timeline, mate,” Louis confesses, “and I’m basically scarred for life now.”

“It’s only for one night, Tommo.”

“Malik, it’s the principle of the thing.  Besides, I already told my dad I wouldn’t do it.”  Louis gazes stubbornly over the city below, his arms folded across his chest.

“So that’s when he threatened to cut you off?” 

“Bang on, so I stretched the truth a bit and told him I refused because I’m in a relationship.”

Zayn’s fairly certain that this is the worst excuse his friend ever came up with--and that was saying a lot.  “You’re not even dating anyone, bro.  Besides, your dad’s a professor here so it’s not like you’ll be able get away with that shit story for long.”

“Which is why I’m soliciting your help, Malik,” Louis informs him calmly.  “I need to find a date for dinner this Friday at my parents’ house.  She needs to be someone my dad finds acceptable, of course.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow.  “ _She_?  Don’t you mean _he_?

“Yeah, remember my dad doesn’t know I’m…wait a second.”  Louis snaps his fingers as a wicked smile creeps across his face.  “You’re right.  I’m bringing a guy.  He’ll fucking flip.”

Zayn eyes him warily.  “Tommo, no offence but that doesn’t seem like the best way to tell your dad you’re gay.”

“It’ll be fine, Malik,” Louis shushes him.  “My mum already knows, and I’ve got to come out to him eventually so why not kill two birds with one stone?  At least it’ll be entertaining to see him squirm.”

“I guess,” Zayn concedes.  He could tell Louis had already made up his mind so it was useless to keep on about it.  Even so, he makes one final effort.  “But aren’t you afraid this’ll backfire, bro?  Your dad might cut you off anyway.”

“Nah, my mum wouldn’t let him--not because I’m gay or whatever.  She’d have a proper fit.”

“Yeah, well there’s one last problem.”  Zayn stubs out his cigarette and prepares to be the voice of reason.

“Yes, Malik?”

“Someone would have to be daft to go along with this scheme.”

“Don’t worry so much,” Louis admonishes.  There’s a lightness to his manner that’s almost contagious.  “Look, I’m young, free, and fit.  I’ll just hire some bloke for the dinner date, and then we’ll conveniently break up a few days later or whatever.  I don’t think me dad will push the Winter Ball thingy after he finds out I’m into dudes.”

“So who can you find who’s mad enough to go along with this daft plan?  By the way,” Zayn adds, just in case, “you can bloody well count me out.”

“Nah, that would be naff, like dating my brother or something.  Anyway, it has to be someone my parents don’t know, someone who doesn’t look like they’re a mate doing me a favour.”  Louis’ brow furrows while he tries to think of a potential candidate. 

Zayn’s about ready to throw in the towel when Louis snaps his fingers again.  “Styles!  That kid Styles will do it, no question.  You can tell he just want to fit in with the ‘cool kids,’ and that’s basically us, Malik.  Even better--he doesn’t need the money so he’ll probably be cheap as chips to hire.  Oh and he’s definitely pretty enough, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I mean I never thought about it but sure.”  He feels uncomfortable for some reason.  “What difference does it make?  Your parents aren’t gonna care what the guy looks like.”

“Come on, mate,” Louis scoffs.  “I can’t hire a complete troll because it just wouldn’t be believable and….”

Zayn tunes him out as they head back to the room they share.  Instinctively, he feels Harry is an awful choice for the role, and as a drama major, Zayn wonders how Louis doesn’t see it, too. 

 

## ***** 

 

Harry is gawking at Louis like he’s gone mad, and honestly, Zayn can’t blame him.  As they sit around Harry and Liam’s mini poker table, Liam doesn’t seem too thrilled about the prospect either.  Louis did his best, really sold the proposal as only he could, but only an idiot would agree to this plan. 

Harry frowns, then rubs the invisible scruff on his chin.  He’s clearly building up the courage to tell Louis to sod off, and Zayn’s getting ready to accompany his best mate out the door.  Zayn wishes he could say it was the first time they had been thrown out of a place but of course it wasn’t.  Not even close.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry says in a careful, measured tone.  “I’ll do it.”

And then there’s a crash as a stack of poker chips spill onto the floor.  At first, Zayn wonders if he’s knocked them over, but then he sees Liam blushing to his right. 

“Oh sorry,” Liam says sheepishly, collecting the scattered chips off the floor on his hands and knees.  Zayn bends down to help, and he’s surprised to see how Liam is shaking. 

“Don’t cry over spilt chips,” Zayn whispers as they’re under the table.  Liam gives him a weak smile.

“What in God’s name are you two doing under there?” Louis booms from above.  “Harold, don’t look.  You’re too young for this sort of thing.”  At these words, Liam rushes to stand up and bumps his head on the edge of the table.  He grimaces as the pile he’s holding falls from his hands.

Zayn glares at his best mate and tosses the poker chips back on the table.  “Nice one, Tommo.  Real smooth there.”

“Don’t blame me, Malik.  That’s karma if I’ve ever seen it.” 

Harry appears slightly more concerned.  “You okay, Liam?” 

Liam nods, but he’s wincing and holding his head.  “I’m good.  Think I’ll go have a lie down though.”

“Brilliant idea,” Louis hails.  “Don’t know why you’re so clumsy today.  Not like you at all.  Here, we’ll let you sleep it off.  We can talk details upstairs, eh Harold?”  He then turns his attention to Zayn.  “Coming?”

“Nah, think I’ll stick around with Liam for a few minutes and make sure he didn’t get a concussion because you were being a twat.”

Liam groans.  “I’m fine, Zayn.  It’s not Louis’ fault I hit my head.”

“Yes it is,” Zayn insists, a smile twitching at his lips.  “If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in life, it’s that it’s always Louis’ fault--to some degree anyway.

Louis heaves a dramatic sigh as he guides Harry towards the door.  “See what I have to deal with, Harold?” Louis complains.  “It’s an absolute disgrace the way Malik over here treats me.  And after I literally saved him from drowning when we were twelve.  Shameful.”

Zayn snorts indignantly.  “You mean when we were at camp?  You pushed me off the canoe, you bloody wanker!”

“How was I to know you couldn’t swim?” Louis shrugs.  Harry and Liam are both snickering at the friendly banter. 

“Because let’s see…I told you a million bloody times before we got in the boat, and you told me it would be fine.  You also said I shouldn’t wear floaties because I’d look like a ‘nancy boy.’”

“Oh details, details, Malik,” Louis clucks, hands on hip.  “We’ve all gotten over that unfortunate little incident now.  Anyway, it’s not like it’s scarred you for life.”

“Tommo, I haven’t stepped in the water since.  I don’t even take fucking baths anymore.”

Harry loses it then.  He doubles over as he erupts with giggles.  Even Liam joins in.  For a brief moment, Zayn’s transfixed by the way the chestnut-haired boy laughs, all dimples and bright eyes.  He’s looking at Louis who has a shit-eating grin on his face, and Zayn realises Harry hasn’t given him as much as a glance the whole evening.  He wonders if the new boy is crushing on his best mate.  It gives him a funny feeling for some reason.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat fond childhood memories, Malik,” Louis says after everyone’s caught their breath.  He’s got that familiar glint in his eye, and Zayn can’t even pretend to be mad at him.  “But I think Harold and I had best get this arrangement sorted.”

“Zayn, you’ll help Liam to bed, right?” Harry inquires, checking to make sure Liam is indeed alright.  He doesn’t look in Zayn’s direction even though he’s speaking to him, and it’s starting to get on Zayn’s nerves.

Louis snickers.  “I’m sure he’d _love_ to help Liam to bed,” he teases.  “They have to finish what they started under the poker table, don’t they now?” 

“Give it a rest, Tommo,” Zayn begs.  He’s had enough of the banter for now.  “Your new boyfriend’s not used to this yet.  You don’t want to reveal your true character too quickly here.  You’ll scare him off.”

“Wise words, Malik.  I’ll keep that in mind.  See you around, lads.”

Harry waves goodbye, and Zayn stares after them in disbelief even after the door closes.  “Hey Payno--you know him better than I do, of course, but can you believe Harry went along with it?”

“No, Liam said glumly, “I can’t.”

“What’s the matter, bro?”

“Nothing,” Liam deflects.  Zayn can tell something’s bothering him, but he’s not the sort to pry.  But then Liam’s eyes light up.  “Hey, I just got the new _FIFA_ for my birthday.  That would definitely help me to keep my mind off….”  Liam’s voice trails off, and his eyebrow’s now twitching.

“Yes?”

“Off, um, school,” Liam supplies lamely.  Zayn can’t let it go without saying something at this point.

“You know you can tell me about anything, right?” Zayn reminds him.  “I know there’s something going on with you, Liam.  You don’t have to tell me now,” he swerves in as Liam’s about to throw out another excuse.  “Just know I’m here if you need to talk, okay?”  Liam nods sullenly, and Zayn wonders if he got his point across.  “Now how about that game?”

“I think it’s just what the doctor ordered,” Liam says, putting on a happy face for Zayn’s benefit. 

They play all afternoon, and Zayn even lets him win sometimes--okay a lot of times.  It’s the least he can do.

 

## ***** 

 

The next day, Zayn is seated at the circulation desk when Harry creeps into the library.  He’s got a hat crooked on his head and a scarf looped around his neck even though it’s one of the warmest September days on record.  It makes Zayn want to gag.  Somehow, he swallows the impulse, and gives the other boy a forced smile and wave.

Harry doesn’t see--or he pretends not to anyway.  He immediately ducks into a row stacked high with books on Uralic languages and literature.  Zayn is barely able to cover a smile as he watches Harry’s tall form meander through the maze of shelves.  When he spots Harry in the naval science section, he considers going over to ask what he’s searching for (or to at least point him in the direction of the computers by the circulation desk), but it’s fairly blatant the lad isn’t eager to see him.  So Zayn doesn’t bother with him. 

A short time later, Zayn’s helping a girl locate a book on philology when he sees Harry at the circulation counter checking out.  If Zayn were the paranoid sort, he might suspect Harry had waited until Zayn left before heading up to the desk.  Luckily, he’s not so he doesn’t give two fucks.

 

## ***** 

 

“What in the world are you doing?” Zayn asks as he walks into the room on Friday afternoon after his last class of the week.  Louis is sat on the red futon, trousers rolled up to the knees, a bare foot propped up on the coffee table. 

“Painting my nails--what does it look like?” Louis returns with exasperation.  “Geez, Malik.  I thought you were supposed to be the brains of this operation.  Remember--you’re the clever one, and I’m the one with the looks?”

“Of course I can see you are painting your nails,” Zayn states as patiently as he can.  “I want to know _why_ you’re painting them.”

Louis shoots him a withering look.  “ _Please_ don’t tell me you’re going to turn into one of those people obsessed with gender roles, Malik.  Don’t tell me you’ve been reading posts from my old pal Hilda Hughes because I really don’t think I can deal with that rubbish--not when I haven’t had my afternoon tea yet.”

Zayn wants to shake his best mate by the shoulders.  He loves Louis, but he is hands-down the most infuriating person Zayn’s ever met.  Well, maybe a close second to Harry actually.  They’re probably equally annoying, but at least he’s got history with Louis so that tips the scale.

Zayn clenches his teeth.  “No, you could paint your entire foot with the stuff for all I care.  I’m just curious why you’re motivated to start painting your nails all of a sudden.”

“It was Harry’s idea, actually.  He said I should get a full-on mani-pedi, but I’m broke at the moment so there you have it.”

“Maybe you two should have a spa date,” Zayn grunts.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had in weeks, Malik.” 

Zayn eyes him warily.  “I was taking the piss, Tommo.  Besides, I thought this whole charade was coming to a close.”  It’s only been a week, but Zayn’s had it with the fake relationship bullshit.  And he’s getting _really_ tired of Harry.

As usual, Louis sees right through him.  “You got something against Harold, Malik?”

“Maybe,” Zayn mutters, flopping down on the futon next to Louis.  He notices there’s a blue stain on the table in front of him.  Of course his roommate didn’t have sense enough to put a towel down.  He’d have to remember to ask his mum what she uses for nail polish stains on wood.

“Why?”

“Pardon?” 

“Why don’t you like Harold?” Louis elaborates.  “He’s a perfectly charming young man.”

Zayn rolls his eyes.  “Because he’s been fucking following me, that’s why.”

“Oh, my dear Malik--”

“No, I swear he is,” Zayn insists, but Louis still looks sceptical.  “Listen, I bumped into him six bloody times today, Tommo.  _Six._   I counted even.  Now you may disagree, but there’s no way that’s normal.  Bloody hell, it’s not like we even have classes together.”

Louis cocks his head to the side and tsks.  “You just said yesterday that he never looks at you.  Which is it, Malik?  Is he avoiding you or following you?”   

“Both,” Zayn grumbles.  “He just…shows up places then blows me off if I try to talk to him.  Like, I don’t think we’ve made eye contact more than a couple of times since I’ve met him.  And I still don’t think it’s even remotely possible to cross paths with someone that many times on a daily basis.  It’s like he’s stalking me or something.”

“No, he’s fake-dating your roommate.  You’re also close mates with _his_ roommate.  You gotta expect some interaction, Malik.”  Louis stops for a moment to admire his toes.  “You think I should add another coat?”

“Do what you want--um no actually.  They look fine as they are.”  It was safer to tell Louis they looked good than run the risk of another spill.  “But back to Harry--he was even at the comic book club meeting, Tommo.”

“So?  Maybe he likes comic books.  Maybe he decided to tag along with Liam.  What’s the problem?” 

“Well, I was a few minutes late because I was finishing re-shelving up at the library, and so I get there and he’s practically running the show, calling the meeting to order and shit.  I’m sure he would’ve ousted me as president if Liam didn’t stop him.  He’s a bloody pest.”

Louis chuckles even though Zayn’s sure there isn’t anything the least bit comical in anything he’s said.  “He must think you’re cool or something, Malik.  After all, we are best mates so maybe he thinks that gives him an ‘in’ with you as well.  I’d just take it as a compliment, like, and move on.”

Zayn’s considering Louis’ theory when the other boy winks at him.  “It’ll all be over tonight.  I’ll bring Harry to dinner at my parents’, and that will be the end of Hilda Hughes and the Winter Ball,” he smirks.  “My dad won’t even know what hit him.”

 

## ***** 

 

_Payno:  mind if I come up?_

 

Zayn glances at the text.  He’s bored and fidgety for some reason; can’t keep his mind on anything longer than five minutes.  Zayn texts a quick response:

_mi casa su casa bro_

 

Zayn’s barely pressed ‘send’ when he hears a knock at his door.  

“I’m so fucked,” Liam moans before collapsing on the futon.  Zayn’s used to Louis overreacting on a semi-regular basis but not Liam.  Not steady, sensible Liam.  Zayn’s never seen him unravel like this.

“Can’t be as awful as all that,” Zayn comforts him.  He reaches down to pat his cheek and that’s when he gets a whiff of pure alcohol.  He shakes his head.  “Should’ve known you were just smashed.  I was beginning to think there was actually something wrong, you prick.  Let’s get you sobered up, and things won’t look so bad, yeah?”

“No, it _is_ bad, Zayn,” Liam whinges.  “It’s really bloody bad, and I don’t know what to do.”

Zayn pinches his cheek and chuckles.  “Here, I’ll just make a pot of coffee, and then you tell me all about it, champ.  We’ll get it sorted in no time.”

Liam seems soberer (but just as sombre) an hour later.  They’ve chatted--or Zayn has anyway--about school and their families.  They’ve covered every topic, it seems, except the elephant in the room. 

Zayn breaches it first.  “So give it to me, Liam.  What’s on your mind?”

“It’s Louis,” he moans, burying his head in his hands.  “I…I think I’m sort of in love with him.”

Zayn’s stunned.  They’ve known each other since the second day at university.  Liam seamlessly joined the unbreakable team that was Zayn and Louis, and the trio had been inseparable ever since.  Still, he never would have suspected Liam’s feelings for Louis went anywhere beyond friendship.  Never in a million years.

“How long?”

I don’t know…months?  Maybe longer.”  Liam looks tormented, and so Zayn wraps an arm around him.  He gives Liam’s waist a little squeeze to encourage him to go on.  “I guess I knew there might be something there--ever since you first introduced us.  I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to spoil anything, you know?”

“So what made tonight worse?  Was it this stupid date?”

“Yeah,” Liam confides, “you should have been there when Lou came to our room tonight though.  He looked so smart--well, you probably saw.  Anyway, when I opened the door my first thought was that he was taking _me_ out, you know?  And then I remembered he was there for Harry, and I just--”  Liam covers his face with his hands, and Zayn can tell he’s on the verge of falling apart. 

“You’ve got to tell him,” he whispers.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Liam agrees, taking a deep breath as he tries to collect himself.  His chocolate brown eyes are suddenly full of resolve.  “I’ll tell him tonight.”

“Sounds good.  You just hang here until he comes back, yeah?  I’ll leave for a bit when it’s time.” 

And so they wait…and wait…and wait.  The later it gets, the more anxious Zayn becomes.  He chalks it up to Liam’s emotions rubbing off on him because Zayn doesn’t care how late Louis and Harry are out. 

_Why would he?_

He’s scrolling through his twitter feed and Liam’s doing another round of press-ups behind the futon when they hear a key in the lock.

“Fuck,” Louis curses as he waltzes in and flops down. 

“Payno’s here,” Zayn alerts his roommate.  “He needs to tell you something later.”

“Oh?”  Louis sits up and peeks behind the futon.  A sweaty Liam is lifting himself off the floor, and Louis observes him curiously.  Zayn does, too.  Liam’s hair’s a proper mess, and he looks sore from doing about ninety press-ups too many.  Louis clears his throat suggestively.  “Did I, er, interrupt something?”

“No,” Liam and Zayn chorus.

“Well hullo then, Payno,” Louis says cheerily.  “Glad you could come join in my misery.”

Zayn sneaks a meaningful glance at Liam.  “So…how’d it go?”

Louis stretches out on the futon with melodramatic flair.  He’s got the back of one hand on his forehead like he’s the great Sarah Bernhardt about to perform a death scene.  “What a cock up, lads.  Now as you know, I’m the first person to admit when I’m wrong-- _Malik, stuff it_ \--and I was definitely wrong about this.”

“What happened?”  Liam pales and flocks to Louis’ side.  He kneels down on one leg, and now it really does look like a death scene playing out before Zayn.

_If only he were so lucky._

“Malik?  You with me?” Louis asks, breaking character for a moment to ensure his audience is still there.  “Well, I have to admit your misgivings were bang on.  I should’ve bloody listened to ya in the first place.  Then I wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

Louis groans as he massages his temples, and Zayn is starting to fear that something really did go amiss tonight.  “So what happened, bro?”

“That last bloody thing I ever thought would happen, that’s what.”  Louis pauses for dramatic effect, and Zayn wonders if he’s going to have to strangle the news out of his roommate. 

Luckily, Louis decides to continue.  “My dad fucking _adored_ Harold.  He’s crazy about him and wants us back for dinner Wednesday week.  Like, they’re Facebook friends and everything now.  It’s fucked up.”

 Louis springs to his feet and starts pacing the floor.  They share the largest dorm room on the floor, but even so, there isn’t much space with all the crap Louis has brought into it.  Still, it’s better than nothing, and Zayn can tell Louis needs to let off some steam.

Zayn tries to look at the positive side of it.  It isn’t something he’s accustomed to, but he does his best.  Louis clearly needs some counselling right now.  “So your dad didn’t, like, freak when you told him you were gay?  I mean, that’s good, right?”

“No, he didn’t care a tick I was gay!  He said he was glad I finally found someone ‘worth taking home’ and all that rot.  But then he had the nerve to say that we probably wouldn’t last the month, Harold and me.”

Liam looks sick.  “But Louis…weren’t you guys gonna call it quits after this dinner?”

“Nooo way, Payno.  We’re in this for the long haul now.”  He has a crazy look of determination.  Zayn’s seen it before unfortunately.  “My dad didn’t think I could stay with Harold until the Winter Ball.  He wants me to bring him as a date if we’re still together.  Well, I’ll show him that I’ve got the goods for a long term relationship.”

“But you two aren’t in an actual relationship, Tommo,” Zayn reminds him because clearly Louis needs reminding of that now.  “And how do you know Harry will even go along with all this?”

“Don’t drag me down with details, Malik.  I’ll get it sorted.  Harold’s already on board for next week.  Said he had a really lovely time with my parents even.”  He grimaces as he reflects on the evening.  “You should’ve seen him.  He was hashing chocolate tart recipes with me mum while sharing his Spotify playlist with the patriarch.  Payno, you’re his roommate.  Why didn’t you warn me he was like this?”

“Yeah, he’s er…an old soul, I guess you’d say.”

Zayn would have labelled Harry an eccentric as well as a bloody nuisance, but he thought it best to keep his opinion to himself. 

Louis snaps his fingers and halts mid-stride.  “Oh wait--you had something to tell me.  Right, Payno?”

“Huh?  No I mean….”  Liam wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.  “I…uh…I forgot.”  The look on his face was absolutely gutting.  “Wasn’t important anyway.”

“Cool.  Well, I’m knackered; ‘til tomorrow, lads!”  Louis kicks off his trainers and jogs to his bed.  Liam seems to be frozen in place.

“Think I’ll, um, walk Liam back to his room, Tommo.”

Louis smirks at the two of them.  “Sure you will, Malik.” 

Zayn’s about to lash out at him, but something makes him opt for restraint instead.  Maybe it’s the sadness he sees in his best mate’s eyes.  Maybe it’s the way the half-smirk looks almost painted on Louis’ face. 

But then Louis is crawling in bed, pulling the duvet up to his ears, and Liam is calling to him from the doorway.  He’s torn for a moment but figures Louis isn’t going to be in the mood to talk right now so he follows Liam out.

They go up to the roof because that’s where Zayn does his best thinking.  He’s still convinced that Liam should tell Louis how he feels, but Liam has resigned himself to waiting now.  Liam says he doesn’t want to make things more complicated, but Zayn thinks he’s afraid--afraid he’ll blow his chances, afraid he’ll be rejected. 

“Zayn…do you think there’s any chance they might…you know….?”  Liam doesn’t finish the thought, but he doesn’t have to.  

Zayn rubs his chin thoughtfully.  “This ain’t some crap rom-com, Liam.  It’s real life.”  He wants to say more, wants to warn Liam that anything could happen, but there’s no point in feeding the flames of his fears now.

“You’re lucky,” Liam observes, breaking the silence.  There’s an irony and heartrending wistfulness to his tone.  “You’re lucky, Zayn, because you don’t know what this feels like.”

And although he doesn’t voice it, Zayn thinks that’s not such a bad thing.  He couldn’t even fathom being madly in love with someone who essentially passed you up in favour of fake dating someone else.  Couldn’t imagine it at all.

 

## ***** 

 

Zayn wakes up to loud music.  It’s not even the steady, soothing sound of a blaring bass drum--he could deal with that.  He was quite used to hearing the low thumping of an EDM beat coming in through the walls.

But this is different.  There is too much treble.  It shrills out at times then disappears.  The music dips, then explodes with a cacophony of ambient noises and stuttering drums that shake the floor.  Zayn groans and flips over onto his stomach.  He covers his head with a pillow but still he can’t sleep. 

He wouldn’t mind, but he hadn’t slept last night.  He’d been up then had to work an extra shift at the library after he sat two hours for an exam.  Now he’s hallucinating he’s so Goddamn tired.  He checks the time and sees it’s seven minutes past nine.  It’s not late--especially for a Friday night--but even so, the music is a bloody disturbance.  He wonders how no one has complained yet.

As he wanders along the corridor in just a tank and joggers, he soon discovers why:  the halls are deserted.  He remembers Louis and his other mates making plans to go to a local bar tonight.  Apparently, they brought along the whole fucking floor.  Louis had a proper strop when Zayn said he wasn’t going to come tonight, saying it wouldn’t be the same without Zayn there and that he was going to make a big announcement tonight or something.  Zayn had put his foot down though.  He’d been burning the candle at both ends lately and needed to recharge.

Right now though, he feels anything but recharged.

He blearily finds the stairwell and descends to the floor below, following the sound of the music.  It’s some weird indie shit that’s playing, and he’s itching to see what kind of an asshole is blasting this crap on a Friday night. 

He stops and listens at a door when he thinks he’s found the source.  He has to be sure.  A new song, one he recognises, is just starting. 

 

 

 

> _When you were here before_
> 
> _Couldn't look you in the eye._
> 
> _You're just like an angel._
> 
> _Your skin makes me cry._

He bangs on the door, mostly because the jerk won’t hear him unless he does. 

It opens and Harry fucking Styles is standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of Calvin Kleins.  He’s not surprised the music’s coming from Harry’s room, to be honest.  It’s just another item to add to the list of annoying shit the guy does.  Zayn _is_ surprised he hadn’t realised he was in front of Liam’s room before he knocked, but he’s still so out of sorts to notice anything but the way his head’s pounding from sleep deprivation.

“What are you trying to do, Styles?  Make the building collapse?  Destroy everyone’s hearing with this shite?”

Harry stares back at him, wide-eyed and ingenuous.  “Oh my gosh!” he shouts over the significant noise level.  “I’m so sorry, Zayn.  I didn’t realise it was that loud.  Here, I’ll turn it down.”  Harry fumbles with his iPhone and the music blasting from the speakers comes to an abrupt halt.

Some of Zayn’s anger melts away.  At least the guy’s not being a dick about it.  In fact, Zayn almost feels bad by how put-out Harry seems.  _Almost._

“Wanna come in?” Harry invites.  His voice seems naked now; everything’s so quiet.  Zayn’s about to say no, but then he feels like he should.  He doesn’t want to be the dick in the situation.  He doesn’t want this to turn into ‘something’ when he’s going to have to deal with this kid for the foreseeable future, no thanks to Louis.

“Yeah, sure.”  Zayn runs a hand through his hair as he treads past the entranceway.  He feels self-conscious even though Harry’s the one who opened the door completely starkers.

An awkward silence follows him in.  Zayn takes a seat at the poker table, and Harry sits cross-legged on his bed.  Harry’s not really looking at him, and so he decides to return the favour.

After a pregnant pause, Harry clears his throat.  “So you’re staying in then?”

“Yeah, I was planning on having a kip.  That didn’t exactly work out as planned.”  It’s a snarky comment at best, but Zayn can’t help himself. 

“Oh.”  Out of the corner of his eye, Zayn can see Harry twisting his fingers.  He feels bad again.

Zayn picks up a poker chip and sets it on its edge.  He places a finger on top to hold it in place, then flicks the side.  It’s satisfying to watch it spin around in a black blur--almost hypnotising.  When it wobbles to a complete stop and tips over, it’s like it’s a cue for him to say something.  “Thought you might be at the bar--with Louis, I mean.”

“And Liam,” Harry adds like it’s a vital piece of information.  “Yeah, I told them I’d be down later.  I wasn’t ready yet.”

Zayn defaults on the game of chicken they’re playing and looks at Harry.  The guys not even remotely ready.  He’s still just wearing those black boxers, and his hair looks damp from the shower.  Zayn can see ringlets forming as they dry even though Harry keeps shaking them out like a wet dog.

“If you want to get dressed, I can leave.”

He goes to stand up but Harry waves him off.  He can tell Harry doesn’t mind being practically naked in front of him, but it ruffles Zayn slightly.  Even so, he can’t help but stare now.  His eyes linger on Harry’s long torso.  Zayn hadn’t expected to see all those tattoos on the guy, would never have expected to see a fucking massive butterfly tatt on the dude’s chest. 

And Jesus, he certainly never would have expected it to look _good_.

“If you walk around Louis like that, you two might not be fake-dating for much longer,” Zayn cracks.  He wants to take it back as soon as he says it.

“I always walk around like this,” Harry responds, nonplussed.  “I hate wearing clothes all the time.”  Zayn figures he’s going to have to add “hippie nudist” to the list of things he can’t stand about Harry.  That is, if there’s any room left. 

“What time are you supposed to meet Louis?”

“Soon…I just….”  Harry’s eyes flicker about momentarily.  “I guess I’m just nervous, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to make it public that we’re a couple--Louis and me.  I thought Louis would have told you, no?”  Harry looks at him searchingly. 

Louis hadn’t mentioned it, but he had hinted that tonight was important for some reason.  Zayn immediately thinks of Liam, oblivious and unsuspecting at the bar.  He ought to text his mate and give him a heads-up. 

“So why are you nervous?”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugs.  “Just am.”

Zayn stares at the first year pointedly.  He might be betraying his best mate with what he’s about to say, but he wouldn’t feel right not saying it.  “You know you don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to.  I know Louis is intimidating, but it’s all bluff, believe me.”

“I’d hate to let him down because I have a few jitters.  I promised, Zayn, and I always keep my word.”

“Just don’t be a doormat, Harry.  That’s all I’m saying.”

“I’m not.” 

Zayn can see a trace of uncertainty in those striking green irises.  “Suit yourself.”  He rises and turns to go.  Seconds later, he hears the squeak of the bedsprings and Harry’s in front of him. 

“Are you saying there’s a reason I shouldn’t go through with it?” he asks, searching again.

Zayn bites his lip. “No, I just wanted to make sure you were okay with everything.  That’s all.  Just make sure you stand up for yourself, okay?”

“For instance?”

“Well, like he calls you Harold.  Liam says that isn’t even your real name.”

“It’s fine,” Harry assures him.  He grabs a black-and-white silk shirt off the back of a chair and starts buttoning it up, his nimble fingers moving like lightning.  “I don’t mind.  Besides, none of my close friends back home call me Harry anyways.”

Zayn cocks an eyebrow.  “What do they call you then?”

“Haz or Hazza mostly.” 

“Why don’t you ask Louis to call you that then?”

“No…I don’t…I mean…,” Harry sputters.  “He can call me whatever he wants to call me.  I don’t mind.” 

Harry steps closer and Zayn thinks about how perfect it would be to sketch him--and how challenging as well.  He’d never be able to capture the life in Harry’s eyes or that aura around him that’s so captivating.  There’s a certain _je ne sais quoi_ about the boy.  Maybe that’s why he can’t help but stare. 

“You know,” Harry starts, sliding his tongue across his bottom lip.  “I’d like very much if you called me that--Haz or Hazza, I mean.”

“Sure, no problem… _Haz_.”  Zayn likes the way the word feels on his tongue. 

Harry smiles wide and Zayn tries not to look at the way his pink lips stretch over perfect teeth.  He tries not to stare at the boyish dimples that appear, but it’s like they’re right smack in front of him.  Not for the first time in his life, Zayn wishes he were taller. 

But when he looks up and into those green expanses, he changes his mind. 

Harry’s mobile pings then, and they break eye contact as Harry reaches for it.  “Louis,” Harry states simply when he glances at the screen.  “You sure you don’t want to come along?”

“Nah, I’m good.  Gonna try to get back to sleep.  You have a sick time though.”

When Zayn gets to his room, he texts Liam, then lays his head down on his pillow.  He gazes out the window for a while before examining every crack and crevice in the plaster.  He thinks about work and school and Liam and his sister’s birthday coming up in a few days.  He makes a mental checklist of all the little things he needs to do until he feels as if his head is going to explode. 

It’s after two by the time Louis returns.  Zayn pretends to be asleep.  He knows Louis will want to gossip about everything that happened at the bar, but he’d rather wait until morning.

Or never actually.

 

## ***** 

 

The next morning, Louis and Harry are the major topic of conversation everywhere he goes.  The entire student body is enamoured by the couple--the popular rebel and the pretty hipster. 

By Monday afternoon, even some of the faculty (courtesy of Professor Tomlinson) is buzzing about them.  Zayn is beyond over it.  He wants to scream out that the whole thing’s a sham and punch the next person who brings up the ‘cute couple.’  Liam isn’t taking it well either.  He seems tortured, but then he’s got a reason to be--he’s in love with Louis.

Liam’s not upset with Harry though--or anyone really.  The roommates get on quite well from what Liam says.  Harry hardly talks to Zayn though.  Barely looks at him.  It’s almost as if the entire conversation they had in Harry’s room never happened.

Harry is somehow no less annoying than before.  By the end of the week, Harry has joined the boxing team.  He’s auditioned for the glee club.  He’s president of the pottery club.  Even so, he manages to massive amounts of time with the boy he’s pretend dating. 

Zayn makes the mistake of mentioning this to Liam who alleges Zayn’s jealous of Harry for taking up so much of Louis’ time.  It’s complete drivel.  Harry isn’t stealing his best mate from him.  No one could separate the partners in crime.

Not even Harry Styles.

 

## ***** 

 

On Wednesday, Zayn glimpses Louis snogging Harry against a building as he’s hurrying to class.  Later that evening, the pretend couple have their second dinner date at the Tomlinson house.

Zayn stays home and catches up with his coursework.  He doesn’t think about Harry and Louis and _definitely_ doesn’t wonder if snogging is part of the normal protocol for fake relationships. 

 

## *****

 

 

 

> _All I want is nothing more_
> 
> _Than to hear you knocking at my door._
> 
> _'Cause if I could see your face once more,_
> 
> _I_ _could die a happy man I'm sure._

 

The angst-filled song plays on, but Harry has turned down the volume a notch and so he can no longer make out the lyrics.  Louis is in class or Zayn would complain to his roommate. 

It’s weird how Louis always seems to be out of the room whenever Harry’s blasting his music.  If Zayn were the paranoid sort (which he isn’t), he might think Harry waited until Louis left before cranking the volume up.  Luckily, he’s not.

 

## ***** 

 

Harry becomes a regular at the comic club meetings.  Zayn finds it almost amusing how Harry attends to the discussion like he’s in a lecture and eagerly injects tid-bits of specific knowledge here and there. 

Harry still doesn’t seem to talk to Zayn much, but he isn’t blatantly avoiding him either.  Sometimes they even have an innocuous conversation about the weather or upcoming football fixtures after the meetings as they walk back with Liam to the halls.  As time passes, Zayn becomes more and more amazed at how many people Harry knows--from students to professors to university staff.  Everyone seems to be in love with the boy with the dimples and quick smile.  They call out a greeting or give the first year a friendly wave.  Zayn usually has to tell himself to stop staring at the way Harry’s eyes light up on these occasions.

By early November, Zayn begins to notice a change in Harry.  He can’t quite put a finger on it, but he can tell that Harry’s eyes have lost a bit of their brightness.  He considers saying something to Louis or Liam, but they both seem so wrapped up in their own problems.  Besides, it’s not like Zayn has any concrete evidence that something is actually troubling Harry.  He barely even knows the boy.

 

## *****

 

 

 

> _Every time I see you falling,_
> 
> _I get down on my knees and pray._
> 
> _I'm waiting for that final moment_
> 
> _You say the words that I can't say._

 

Harry’s music is drowning out his guitar so Zayn decides to head to the roof.  He could ring Harry and ask him to turn it down, but it’s a nice night, and Zayn likes to look at the stars while he plays.

A short while later, he’s focused on plucking the correct strings when he hears footsteps behind him.  “Hey, Tommo,” he calls without looking up, assuming theatre rehearsals ended early.

“It’s me,” Harry answers unsurely, “but I can go if you prefer to be alone.”

Zayn glances up.  “No, you’re good,” he replies, trying to hide his surprise.  Harry never comes up here and never seems to want to be alone with Zayn, _period_.

“Cheers, I just wanted to get away for a while,” Harry explains, settling in Louis’ usual place next to the abandoned brick pile.  “People keep knocking down my door, asking for favours and what-not.  It’s probably awful for me to say this, but I’m not really in the mood to see anyone, you know?” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you ever get tired of trying to be everything to everyone, Haz?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean how you’re always trying to please everyone,” Zayn clarifies.  “You know you are.”

Harry hesitates for a moment.  “If I answer can I ask _you_ a question?”

Zayn wasn’t generally one to make bargains like this, but he was in a charitable mood today.  “Yeah sure.”

Harry crosses his legs.  He kicks one black boot up on the ledge while the other swings back and forth like a pendulum.  “I don’t know…I guess it started after my parents divorced.  I just wanted everyone to like me.  I got high on it, you know?” he confides, scratching his head.  “I’ve spent so much time trying to be what you said--everything to everyone else.  Now, I want to be something to _myself_ \--I’m just not exactly sure what that means yet.  But I’m going to figure it out.”  His eyes are full of resolve.  “Have you ever felt like that?”

Zayn smirks.  “Growing up, I was too poor for things like existential crises, mate.”

Harry stays quiet for a while, and Zayn half-hopes the other boy has forgotten about their agreement.  He isn’t keen on answering personal questions and God only knows what drivel Harry would come up with. 

Zayn strums a few bars to “Stairway to Heaven” and tries to forget that the two of them are alone on the roof.  He tries to forget Harry’s there even.  It doesn’t work though.  Zayn starts to think Harry is the most distracting person he’s ever known.  Even when he isn’t running his gob, just sitting there five feet away, he’s bloody distracting. 

“Have you ever been in love?” Harry asks languidly, an unlit cigarette now dangling between his tulip lips.  Zayn watches as he clumsily lights it but doesn’t interfere.  Harry drags on it slow and meaningfully, like someone who is out to prove a point.  Zayn studies him bemusedly and tries to remember what song he was playing.

_Yeah, he’s definitely distracted._

“Well…have you?” Harry presses.

“Have I what, mate?”  

Harry shakes his head.  “If you’d quit plucking that guitar for a moment, you might have a better chance of joining in on the conversation,” he scolds playfully, eyes shining with mischief.  “Besides it’s not like you really play anyway.”

Zayn hitches a brow, his lips curl in smug amusement.  “If you’d quit puffing on that cigarette for a moment, you might have a better chance of not developing lung cancer.  Besides, it not like you really smoke anyway.”

“I, do, too,” he retorts, bottom lip out.  “Like you should talk anyway.”

“That’s different.  And you’re a smoker, Haz?  Since when?”

“Since yesterday.”  Harry practically ingests the fag when he inhales next, endeavouring to fill his lungs with as much of the chemicals as possible.  As if on cue, he begins coughing. 

“You’re an idiot.”  Now it’s Zayn’s turn to shake his head.  When Harry puts the cigarette out, he’s relieved on several fronts.  Being forced to sit here and watch the boy suck on the stick of menthol was making his jeans tight.  “So why’d you decide to take it up?”

“I don’t know; I figured I’d give it a try,” Harry shrugs, eyes still a bit red and watering from his coughing fit.  “I’ll try anything once.”

Zayn purses his lips and tries not to think too deeply about Harry’s last comment.  The kid has a way of making offhand remarks that fuck with his mind a little.

Or a lot.

“Zayn, why’d you decide to take up the guitar?”

It was a good question.  Zayn runs a finger along the outer edge of the acoustic he’d picked up at a nearby pawn shop.  He didn’t know much about guitars, but he fancied this one as soon as he spotted it hanging on the back wall of the shop.  Louis, who actually knew a thing or two about guitars, told him he should buy the blonde Martin next to it, but Zayn didn’t want that one.  He wanted the scuffed-up Gibson with the sick sunburst design.

Besides, he was tired of blondes.

“Well?” Harry prompts.

“I don’t know.  I saw it…and I just wanted it that’s all.”

“And?  There must be more to it than that.  I mean, I’ve got this mate Niall back home and he plays, you know.  He’s a real solid lad.  He says he started playing because it gave him something to do with his hands.  That’s mad isn’t it?”  Harry doesn’t wait for Zayn to answer, just keeps prattling on in that way of his.  “Anyway, I thought about learning an instrument or whatever, but I didn’t fancy the callouses.  Niall said I should try the piano maybe since my fingers are like mutant-alien in length.  You think they’re scary long?” 

Harry fans out his fingers, and Zayn feels almost queasy because _fuck_ they are long.  He always knew Harry had nice hands.  It was hard not to notice something like that.  But knowing that Harry had extremely long digits was one head cannon he didn’t need.  “No, I think they’re fine,” he fibs, looking away.

“So you gonna tell me what made you decide to buy a guitar then?”

Zayn smiles wryly at him.  “I have secret dreams of becoming a hipster just like you, Haz.”

“I suspected as much.”  Harry wets his lips and then looks out onto the city below.  “Let’s sneak out, huh?  Just me and you, Zayn.”

Zayn tries not to appear shocked at the out of the blue question.  “Wouldn’t people talk, Haz?”

Harry regards him with a quiet defiance.  “From what Louis has said, you’ve never cared a toss for all that--or is that another new hobby you’ve picked up recently?”

“Piss off, yeah?”

Harry chuckles.  “You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

“Stuff it.”

“But I want to go out,” Harry whinges, unfolding his long fawn-like legs.  He folds his arms behind his head and pouts like he’s doing a bloody photoshoot.  He’s got a coat slung over his shoulders like a cape.  He’s wearing a black shirt practically unbuttoned to his navel, too much jewellery, and black skinny jeans so tight they should be illegal.  He looks like a young fucking Mick Jagger but with twice the charisma.  And twice as fit.  Zayn can feel his resistance crumbling.

And then he remembers.  “Why don’t you call Louis then?” Zayn suggests somewhat bitterly.  “I mean, he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

Harry sits up then.  He looks upset although Zayn has no idea why.  Zayn’s the one who has the right to be cheesed off right now.  Zayn didn’t ask Harry to come up here looking like _that_.  No, not when he’s in a relationship with Louis, one which seems to be getting a lot less fake every day.

Harry stands up to go but then pauses.  Zayn can tell he’s troubled about something as he plays with the baubles on his hands.  He swallows, then looks decisively at Zayn.  “What if he wasn’t?”

“Sorry, I don’t follow, mate.”

Harry bites his lip again and plops back down.  “I mean, what if Louis wasn’t my boyfriend…or fake boyfriend or whatever?”  He rubs the back of his neck and cocks his head to the side like he’s waiting for Zayn to answer, like he’s been waiting for this answer for a hundred years.

Zayn brushes away the thought.  “I don’t have time for hypotheticals, mate.”

“You too poor for that as well?” Harry sniffs.

“You’re being an ass.”          

Harry narrows his eyes.  “Maybe you should look in the mirror.”

Zayn is seething.  He doesn’t need this.  “Get off my fucking roof!” he hollers, not giving two shits if the whole of London hears.  “Listen, mate.  I didn’t ask for you to come here.  I didn’t ask for you to steal my best mate.  I didn’t ask for you to walk around like you fucking own the place, and I certain as fuck didn’t ask for you to insult me on my own turf.  So why don’t you take your cigarettes and your stupid questions and just bugger off?”

Harry doesn’t say a word when he leaves, and Zayn’s just fine with that.

 

## ***** 

 

 

 

> _So tell me when you're gonna let me in._
> 
> _I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin._

 

“Harold!” Louis bellows, stamping his feet three times on the floorboards.  It must be a code or something because Harry instantly lowers the volume.  Zayn takes note for future use.

Louis then resumes combing his hair like nothing happened.  “So did you find a date yet?”

Zayn rolls his eyes.  He knows what Louis is referring to even though he wishes he didn’t:  the Winter Ball.  The stupid Winter Ball that he’s supposed to attend because he was unlucky enough to get some “distinguished scholar” honour from the English Department.  He had considered skiving off the award presentation since dressing up and being the centre of attention wasn’t really his thing, but then he found out the award came with a scholarship.  He’d be a knob to jeopardise that.

“I’m working on it,” he lies, pulling on his Docs and checking the time.  He was gonna be late to class if he didn’t hurry.  They both were.

“You know, I never thought you’d have this much trouble finding a date to something like this,” Louis muses as he styles his hair.  “You must be losing your magic, Malik.”

“Well, not everyone’s got a fake boyfriend to fall back on,” he mutters and Louis laughs.  Of course he bloody does.

Zayn’s in a pissy mood all the way to the English building.  It only worsens once he gets to class and hears the girl in front of him chuntering about how she’d kill to go to the Winter ball. 

And then he has an epiphany.

Zayn doesn’t know her all that well, but at least she’s not irritating like some of the other girls in his class.  And she always stacks her books nicely when she’s finished with them in the library.  You can tell a lot about people by how they act in a library. 

“Hey, Amelia, right?  Fancy going with me then?” he asks.  The entire group of girls swivels around at the same time.  He’s got several sets of curious eyes on him, and he’s wishing he would have waited until after class to do this.

He’s feeling like he needs to explain himself.  He’s barely spoken to the raven-haired beauty all year, but then he suddenly ups and asks her out.  He’s trying to remember if she’s ever shown any interest in him but he can’t.  That doesn’t mean anything though.  Zayn’s never been good at noticing those things.  Not to sound cocky, but he’s used to getting looks from girls and guys alike.  He’s also learnt to block them out.  “So…I overheard you saying you wanted to go the ball, and I need a date so I just figured we could go together, like.  I mean, as friends or whatever.” 

The girl doesn’t immediately turn away in disgust so he thinks he’s got a chance.  She’s raking her eyes over him now, analysing whether he’s up to her level.  She glances to her left and right and sees the jealous eyes of her friends.  They apparently approve.

Zayn can tell it’s in the bag now.

“Sure, that’d be great,” she replies casually although Zayn would wager a tenner she’s going to start squealing as soon as she gets out of here.  They exchange numbers and then it’s set.  He’s happy to get it over with, to be honest.

 

## *****

 

Zayn’s laying on his bed, strumming the chords to Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” and wishing he could remember the lyrics.  He’s sure they were included in the tab book he had borrowed from the library, but he’s too lazy to fetch the book from his bookshelf.

“I see you’ve learnt a new song.” 

Zayn looks up with annoyance to see the door wedged open and Harry leaning against the doorsill.  He remembers Louis had propped it open to move in some new shit he’d bought, shit they definitely didn’t need. 

Harry straightens up when Zayn sees him and takes a tentative step into the room.  “I can go back in the hall if you don’t want me to stay.  I was just waiting for Louis.  We’ve a dinner date--you know we’ve got to keep up appearances and--”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Haz,” Zayn says tiredly, setting down his guitar next to the bed.  “I’ve been in on this scheme since the beginning, remember?”

Harry nods his assent.  He’s rocking back and forth on his Cuban-heeled boots like a little kid.  Zayn has a sudden inexplicable impulse to shove him in the chest and watch him fall flat on his ass. 

Harry clears his throat.  “I’m sorry.” 

It’s a simple apology, but Zayn can tell he means it.  “It’s alright.  It was me as much as you, mate.  Stress of the term must be getting to us both.”

“You know…you never answered my question.”

“Which question?”

Harry closes the door and then rests against it.  He takes a deep breath: “Have you ever been in love?”

“No…I mean…I don’t think so.”  Zayn feels like he’s lying even though he isn’t.  He’s never been in a serious relationship really, never wanted to.  He’s never been _in love_.  But something about the way Harry’s staring at him makes him nervous and question everything he’s saying.  “No, I’ve never been in love.  You?”

“Yes,” Harry divulges, eyes dark as jade.  “Once.”  He sounds so much older than his years.  “It’s a real drag, man.”

“That’s only true if the object of your affection doesn’t feel the same way,” Zayn states.  He feels as if he’s defending a point in one of his English classes.  “It only sucks if it’s unrequited love.”

“Like I said,” Harry rasps in that gravelly voice of his, “it’s a real drag.”

Then it’s as if a flashbulb goes off in Zayn’s head.  Harry’s talking about Louis.  Zayn opens his mouth to speak; he feels like he should say something encouraging, but he can’t seem to form the words.

“So Louis told me you found a date to the party?  That’s good,” he answers before Zayn can say anything.  “Heard she was in your course of study and all.  She that one with the long black hair who’s always asking you for help in the library?”

Zayn hadn’t really thought about it before, but she did seem to come to him a lot with questions.  Zayn didn’t mind helping though.  That was his job.  Besides, they were both studying English so it just made sense that she’d ask him before someone else.  “Yeah, her name’s Amelia.”

“Oh.  To be honest, I thought you might invite Liam.”

Zayn’s about to answer when Louis catapults into the room, apologising profusely for keeping Harry waiting.  The two leave almost immediately.  Zayn goes back to his guitar, but he can’t concentrate.

 _Harry loves Louis._ He was a fool for not realising it sooner.

 

## ***** 

 

 

 

> _Wait. They don’t love you like I love you._
> 
> _Wait. They don’t love you like I love you._

 

The song’s been on repeat for hours.  Zayn wants to go downstairs and ask Harry why he’s got that certain song on repeat, but Liam’s there and Harry barely talks to him when others are around.  Zayn also wants to know why Harry doesn’t just use earbuds or headphones like a normal fucking person.

But then Harry isn’t a normal person; he’s _Harry_.  And despite his quirks and eccentricities, Zayn’s figured out that he wouldn’t change a thing about him.  Not one Goddamn thing.

 

## ***** 

 

They arrive at the Royal Festival Hall fashionably late--or as Liam calls it, “Zayn time.”  Amelia is dressed to the nines in a claret floor-length gown and lips painted in the same shade.  On the way, the cabbie says they make a handsome couple.  

Once inside, Zayn would rather take the stairs to release some nervous energy, but his date is already complaining about her shoes.  They take the lift.

Although he’s been here once for a poetry reading of Pushkin, he’s never seen the Roof Pavilion look quite like _this_.  Tonight, it’s decked out in purples and gold, and it looks amazing.  Amelia goes to peer out the panoramic window, and Zayn follows.  He’s gawping at the way the coloured lights from the Houses of Parliament reflect upon the Thames like he’s some bloody tourist when someone touches him on the shoulder.

“Lovely view, isn’t it?” a familiar baritone observes.

Zayn thought the view was spectacular, but it’s nothing compared to the boy standing before him.  Zayn’s speechless.  Harry’s usually unruly brunette mane is styled into a sophisticated side part, and he could well have just walked off a 1930s film set.  He’s dressed in a slick, tailored suit to match.  The combination is pure Hollywood heartthrob.

He’s still gawking when Louis sidles up between them.  “You two are actually talking to each other?” he snorts.  “It’s a bloody miracle.”

“No, Zayn hasn’t spoken to me yet so I’m not sure if it counts, Lou,” Harry says, and the way he’s looking at him, Zayn’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to speak again. 

But then he feels a nudge in his side, and he remembers his date.  “Oh yeah…um…this is Amelia.  Amelia, these are my mates, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson.”

“Like Professor Tomlinson?” Amelia inquires, her interest clearly piqued.

“Yeah, he’s Louis’ dad,” Harry answers.  She seems impressed.

“Enchanted,” Louis murmurs, kissing her hand.  She blushes, and Harry feigns jealousy.  Or maybe he really _is_ jealous.  Zayn doesn’t want to think about that.  He also doesn’t want to think about the way Louis is massaging Harry’s back as if to inform the room:  _he’s mine_.

But most of all, Zayn doesn’t want to think about how much it bothers him to watch his two mates on a date--or a fake date or whatever this is.  The lines between reality and fantasy have been blurred for a while now.

Suddenly he remembers the significance of the night for Louis.  “So what did your dad say?” he asks, careful not to include too many specifics in front of Amelia.

“Oh he’s proper chuffed--except the bloody thing backfired on me again.”

“How?”

Louis sighs.  “He said I’ve impressed him so much with my ‘commitment and maturity’ that he wants me to do a summer internship with my uncle’s firm next summer.  And Harold over here was nodding like a bloody bobble head doll, not supporting me at all.  I swear I can’t win for losing, Malik.”

Amelia seems perplexed.  “But shouldn’t you be thrilled and grateful he’s giving you such a fantastic opportunity?  My father says there’s nothing like the thrill of hard work.”

Louis stares back at her like she’s got three heads, and Zayn quickly intercedes before his best mate says something Zayn will regret.  “Don’t worry,” Zayn chuckles, patting him on the shoulder.  “We’ll think of a way out before then.  I promise.”

Louis pretends to wipe a tear away.  “Don’t know what I’d do without you, Malik, my man.  You’ve got the feudal spirit in droves.”

An announcement that the awards ceremony is about to begin interrupts them.  Zayn’s about to follow his date over to their reserved place when Louis stops him briefly to mouth, “ _Where in the bloody hell did you find her?”_ He’s still laughing when he takes his seat at the table assigned to the English Department.

The ceremony flies by, award after award is presented, but Zayn’s only half-listening.  He’s anxious now, just wants to get this part of the evening over with.  Amelia keeps giving him side glances because he can’t keep his leg from jittering.  When he hears his name, it’s like a weight lifted from his shoulders.  _Finally._

Dinner’s served soon after.  Zayn adjusts his bowtie and glances at Amelia.  Although he made it overtly clear that this wasn’t going to be a proper date beforehand, he doesn’t want her to have a shit time.  They have little in common (aside from their major course of study), and there’s zero chemistry between them.  To be fair, it’s not her fault.  She deserves more attention than he’s giving her, but he feels out of sorts. 

So when she begins flirting with one of the classics lecturers, he’s almost glad.  He gives her a thumbs-up when she checks back at him, and he can tell she’s relieved.  He is too.

It’s one less thing for him to worry about tonight.  Actually, now that he’s got the award in hand, there are two less things to worry about.  In theory, there really shouldn’t be anything left on his mind.  Nothing at all.

But there is.

It makes him sick to even entertain the idea, the thought that keeps creeping into his psyche.  So he doesn’t.  He just represses it with everything else he doesn’t want to think about it.  And then he grabs another glass of sherry from a passing waiter to add to the collection in front of him. 

“Don’t drink them too fast, Malik,” Louis advises, tapping him on the shoulder.  “That shite will give you the dickens of a hangover.”  Zayn searches for Harry, but he’s nowhere in the vicinity.  Then Zayn spots him by the windows, chatting with Amelia and the classics lecturer.  They seem to adore him.  Of course they do.  _Everyone_ does.  Despite his quirks, he’s got that charming smile and disarming nature which--

“Malik, did you want that ciggie or not?”

Zayn’s almost forgotten Louis is there, but he quickly agrees to go out with him.  He needs some air.  God, does he need some fucking air. 

 

## *****

 

“Malik, you’re pissed.  I told you to lay off those sherries, bro.  Bloody hell.”

They’re on the rooftop, stealing away from the party for a smoke, and Zayn’s just made the mistake of telling Louis that Harry’s in love with him.

“Well, think about it, Tommo.  Why would he do it then, huh?  You’re not paying him are you?  And even if you are, he doesn’t need the money.”

Louis’ far from convinced.  “What’s your point?”

“My point is that he’s in love with you.”

“You don’t say?” Louis cackles delightfully.  “That sure throws a spanner in the works, doesn’t it now?  I was gonna suggest a friends with benefits relationship with Harold starting tonight, but that sort of puts the breakers on _that_ idea.”

Zayn’s pulse is fluttering.  “So you don’t feel the same way?”

“No, but don’t say anything just yet.  I want to keep my options open,” Louis informs him.  “Besides, he looks like he’d be good at sucking co--.”

“Louis!”

“Oh, Malik--don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it.”  He turns to go, but Zayn doesn’t want to go back yet.  He doesn’t want to face Harry again, not after what Louis just said.  He needs to think, and the quiet rooftop offers him a place to do that.    

“Were you planning to freeze your flat arse off, Malik, or are you coming back down?” 

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Louis looks heavenward and curses under his breath.  “Suit yourself, bro.  Don’t blame me if you’ve got blue balls--or bluer balls, I should say--to add to your massive hangover tomorrow morning.”  Louis salutes him, and then he’s gone, back to where he belongs as the centre of attention, the life of the party.

“You alright?” a shy voice inquires from the shadows.

Zayn pivots around and sees the last person on the fucking planet he wants to see right now.  “Yeah, I’m good,” he mutters, tucking his hands inside his jacket.  “How’d you know I was here?”

Harry blushes, and it makes Zayn’s heart skip a couple of beats.  “I followed you,” the younger boy admits, “you and Louis, I mean.”

“Louis just left.”

“I know.”  Harry doesn’t budge.  “Why don’t you come inside?”

“Don’t wanna,” Zayn says stubbornly. 

Harry plops down on the bench next to him.  “Then I’ll stay, too.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zayn grumbles.

“You’ve mentioned that before,” Harry chirps, covering himself with his dress coat.  “So please enlighten me, Zayn.  Why am I such an idiot?”

“Because you won’t go inside.”

“I need a better reason than that,” Harry says with a lopsided grin.

Zayn gives him one.  “Because you’re in love with Louis, and he doesn’t feel the same way.”  The words are spilling out, and now he can’t stop them.  “And he’s being a right prick about everything.  Like, he just bloody laughed in my face when I told him you fancied him and--”

“But I don’t,” Harry interrupts.

Zayn gawks at him.  “Yes, you do!  You told me you did!”

Harry leans closer, and Zayn’s captivated by the way his breath billows out in white clouds--white clouds against pink lips.  Harry slides closer.  He’s so warm.  Everything about Harry is so warm. 

“I’m not in love with Louis, Zayn.

“But you said--“

“I didn’t say anything of the sort, you prat,” he scolds gently.  “I’m in love with you, Zayn.  Only you.”

Zayn’s chest is guttering.  He can’t believe what he’s hearing.  “H-how?” he stammers.

“Couldn’t you tell?” Harry asks, disbelieving.  “I thought it was so obvious.  I could barely look you in the eye for weeks, and then when I did, it was only in private.  I thought for sure that if I so much as spoke to you or glanced your way that people would know, that they would see my feelings splashed all over my face.  I’ve never been good at hiding things, Zayn, and I didn’t want to muck up everything with Louis.  It was so important to him.”

Zayn’s still in shock.  “But why did you agree to this fucking charade then?  It doesn’t make any sense, Haz.”

“I thought you’d never consider it, you know?  I’m a first year and a nobody, and you’re this amazing person who looks like a Greek God.  I thought I didn’t stand a chance with you.  But if I were dating Louis,” he continues, “I could be around you from time to time.  I figured we could be mates even.  I tried to impress you every chance I could--although it didn’t always work out as planned.”

“Like trying to steal my comic book club away from me?

“Yeah, like that,” Harry acknowledges.  “I know sod-all about comics, Zayn.  I just got books on the subject and a few comics from the university library to study up and impress you.”

“You got on my tits instead.”  Zayn shakes his head.  “So you’re telling me you did all this just so we could be mates?”

Harry chews on his lower lip.  “Sometimes, I hoped for more though.  It was hard not to the more time I spent with you and the more I saw who you were as a person.”

“You’re taking the piss, Haz.  You’ve got to be.”

“I’m not.  I mean every bloody word, Zayn Malik.” 

Harry’s outlined in a blanket of stars.  Zayn swears he’s never seen so many stars.  He feels dazzled by them.  And then he’s focusing in on Harry, watching as Harry begins to chew on his lip again, and he can’t take it anymore.  He closes his eyes and leans in…

_“Malik, the fuck are you doing?!”_

Zayn’s eyes shoot open, and he’s staring into Harry’ dilated pupils.  He knows instantly that he has fucked up, and he tries to explain himself to the intruder.

But Louis isn’t listening.  “I mean, it’s one thing with Harold here, but you’re my best mate, Malik!  What if someone saw?  I’d look like a right bell-end then, wouldn’t I?  Didn’t you two stop to think what the consequences would be if someone found you?  If Amelia or any of our friends or even my dad found you two up here, huh?  My best mate and my boyfriend?  Do you know what kind of a situation that would put me in?”

Zayn can feel himself choking up, and Harry has tears in his eyes.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well you would have been sorry if your date or a member of the English faculty saw you.  _I’d_ just look a fool, but you actually have a reputation to lose.”

“Louis, I--”

“And I can’t fucking believe you’d do this to Liam.”

Zayn stares blankly at him, tries to work out what he just said. 

Louis snorts.  “Like you can’t tell he’s been pining after you for months?  You’ve clearly just been stringing him along all this time, and he fucking deserves better.  Liam deserves way fucking better.”

The way he says it, Zayn has a suspicion that Louis has a pretty good idea of what--or who--would be ‘better’ for Liam.  And then he realises it in a flash:  Louis is jealous. 

But before he gets the chance to say anything, his best mate’s storming off.  “Good night, lads.  Do what you want; I don’t care anymore.”

The two look at each other.  Zayn speaks first.  “I’ve got to make a phone call.”

“I’ve got to make one as well.  Let’s reconvene in a bit.”

“Who’d you ring?” Harry asks when they’ve both hung up.

“Liam,” Zayn replies.  “I gave him a short recap and basically recommended he should tell Louis how he really feels as soon as possible.  And you?”

“I figured you were ringing Liam.  I also figured they’d need some space, and I didn’t want Louis to murder you while he works it all out so….”

“Spit it out, Styles.”

“So I reserved a room for us at the Park Plaza hotel.  We could walk there right now, if you like.”  Harry’s practically leering at him, and _Fuck,_ does he look good.

“You are naughty, aren’t you, Haz?” Zayn chuckles devilishly.

“If you don’t want to, I completely under--”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”

 

## *****

 

 

 

> _Take my hand and let go._
> 
> _I just want you to know_
> 
> _Yo_ _u're the only one that pulls me in._
> 
> _You changed everything…_
> 
>  
> 
> _Step out into the wild._
> 
> _There's a beautiful storm in your eyes._
> 
> _We're perfectly intertwined,_
> 
> _And if it's quite alright, you could be my way of life._

“Haz, turn off the fucking music,” Zayn groans, rolling over.  “You do realise I’m like right bloody next to you so you don’t have to blast this shit anymore?  Besides, you’ll wake up Liam and Louis upstairs."

Harry scoots his bum back against his boyfriend.  “Just wanted to make sure you got the message.” 

“Loud and clear, Haz.”  They’re spooning now, and Zayn’s got an arm slung around the younger boy.  Harry’s curls tickle his nose as he nestles even closer.  “’Night, Haz,” he murmurs, his lips grazing over warm, familiar skin.  “I Love you.”

“’Night, Zayn,” Harry sighs contentedly.  “Love you more.”

It’s almost laughable how wrong Harry is but Zayn doesn’t bother correcting him.  He just presses soft kisses to his lover’s neck and thinks about how Goddamn lucky he is.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Songlist:  
> Radiohead: “Creep”  
> Kodaline: “All I Want”  
> New Order: “Bizarre Love Triangle”  
> Keane: “Somewhere Only We Know”  
> Yeah Yeah Yeahs: “Maps”  
> Lewis Watson: “Into the Wild”
> 
> My tumblr: [zqua1d](http://zqua1d.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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